


Give you back

by starwalker



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Bilbo is So Done, Dragon Sickness, Heartache, M/M, Missing Scene, POV Thorin, Thorin Is an Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwalker/pseuds/starwalker
Summary: Thorin lets the memories burn, after Bilbo betrays him by surrendering the Arkenstone to his enemies.





	Give you back

**Author's Note:**

> I always imagined there was a missing scene in there in BOTFA, right after Thorin attempts to throw Bilbo off the wall for stealing the Arkenstone… As in, one where, before the battle has begun and the host is assembled at the gates of Erebor, Thorin and Bilbo both have some quiet moments of brooding over the loss they had suffered. And then I remembered the song “Give you back” by Vertical Horizon, an old heartbreaker if there ever was one. This is my take on this “missing scene”. Because our hearts cannot be broken enough times for these two.  
> Thorin’s POV.
> 
> Because I am a sucker for song fics and nobody can tell me (they should have died in the early 2000s) otherwise.

Give you back

 

“The stone is real. I gave it to them.”

 

I need to know if you were real

‘cause I’ve been known to get it wrong

When the memory comes

I’ll say I’m always in the dark

You got me now

 

It was as though all the other noises were drowned; for a second, they all seemed unusually sharp and distinct – the howling of the cold wind up on the gate, the distant noise of the army beyond, the voices of his accusers carrying on the cold winds, the disbelieving sounds of his company around him. Then it all fell away, as one voice alone pierced the unnatural silence, a voice he would have recognized at the end of the world:

 

“I took it as my fourteenth share.”

 

Words, horrible words, pounding in his scull, as where silence had reigned there came forth a horrible pain, a pain that flooded him like a wave of nausea. Thorin Oakenshield, the surviving king of Erebor, the champion of his people, chocking on words unspoken as his gaze glazed over, his whole being refusing to believe what he was hearing, hoping against hope that this was somehow, impossibly, wrong.

 

The ensuing events unfolded as if in some feverish dream, where up was down and right was wrong and light was dark and the whole world seemed to have turned upside down for the sole purpose of twisting his tortured heart to bits. As if a veil of greed and death and terrible anger descended upon his gaze and Thorin could not see whether it was night or day, only he needed to dig his fingers in Bilbo Baggins’ sides, shake him, leave him scarred and thorn as he had left him so that maybe he could feel some respite from the fire that threatened to swallow him whole. He cared not whether they were alone or the whole world was there, looking on. Under the terrified glances of both his men and the traitors standing before the wall, he threw Bilbo on the wall and in a second would have pushed him over the edge. All he could see were terrified blue eyes locked on his, a mouth open in disbelief, and a voice that should have been uttering either curses or pleas, but not this terrible, terrible silence, as if what he was doing was the right thing, after all.

 

Words stopped him short, words coming from a long way down but booming as if amplified a hundred times, which they most probably were. Gandalf spoke, and it was not his words that stopped him, but the sight of yet another traitor, and what was more, the one who had gotten him into this horrible mess of meeting Bilbo Baggins all these moons ago so he can live to feel this pain that was burning him whole. So he directed his rage at him instead, anything to divert him from the task of having to gaze upon Bilbo and his eyes that reflected the sky up above, in their clarity and a terrible sadness within.

 

Time seemed to stand still as Thorin gazed over the wall, letting go of Bilbo in the process, who scurried off like a frightened little thing, out of Thorin’s sight. A small part of him wanted to say, “Wait! Do not go.” It was the same part that still, still refused to believe the reality of what he had just learned, and more, of what he had just, almost, done.

 

He was gagging, gagging as he gripped the wall for support, and he needed to be out of here.

 

Pushing himself off the stone, he spun blindly around and stumbled forth, as his companions stepped this way and that to let him pass, without a word. He did not see their faces. He only needed to be away from here.

 

Thorin entered the mountain once more, descending a small side staircase that led to a minor armory. The whole place seemed a blur, was it because of the bright light he had been exposed moments ago or the terrible state of his mind, he could not tell. He almost ran up a corridor to the side of the armory, its walls lined with the occasional torch. Then, he let himself stop, and press his burning forehead to the cool, rough stone.

 

I can’t remember how it went

You looked like everything I wanted

And as you came along,

Slowly everything began to change

I got you now

 

 

The part of him that did not want to believe this kept a feverish mantra going inside his head, as if repeating the words “none of this is real” enough times inside his own head will somehow make it true. Thorin forced himself to stop. Breathe.

 

Then, his fists landed on either side of his head, pounding the rock, as if he could ease his pain by hurting himself hard enough.

 

It was real. He had seen it with his own eyes, heard the words. Traitor. Bilbo was a traitor.

  
Bilbo, who had saved their lives time and again, through this journey they took. Bilbo, who returned to help them, every single time, with great danger to himself. Bilbo, who was never a warrior, who was never brave. Bilbo, whom he had called a greengrocer at their first meeting. Thorin used to flush at the memory.

 

Everything Bilbo had done lay ruined in shreds at his feet. Thorin did not even stop to think why, since Bilbo had so far given him so much proof of his loyalty, one single act could irreversibly delete it all and tip the scales to condemnation. He did not stop to think what reasons might have moved Bilbo to do what he had done. Dragon sickness consumed his being, body and soul, and made him blind to everything that might harm the treasure. His treasure. In the state he was in, he would have been able to slaughter his own kin if need be, to protect the treasure. Bilbo Baggins was beyond redemption.

 

And still, as his burning forehead pressed into stone, it was as though two persons were raging battle inside him. One roared for blood and revenge, while the other sobbed quietly for a loss too great to be spoken of.

 

 

 

I need to know if you were real

I’d hate to think that I’d been fooled again

And as the vision fades  
I’ll say I was blinded by your eyes

I felt them burn


End file.
